Cliché
by M. A. Raven
Summary: There are all sorts of clichés. The good, the bad, the true-to-life, and the natural-like-Cheez Whiz. Finn/Rachel Pairing, Future!fic.


Author's Note: Thanks to Ali for her services as beta. This is my first fic w/ this pairing, second Glee! fic at all. The storage closet referenced within this comes from a story by Alifab over on LiveJournal; she has graciously allowed me to borrow it.

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As she stood in the storage closet, staring intently at a set of half-empty shelves while she tried to return her clothing to something even remotely resembling presentable, Rachel Berry reflected on clichés. They're something she's rather well versed in, after all.

For one thing, there's the not-insubstantial portion of her life that was dedicated to the study of musical theatre. For another, Rachel believes that everyone should be well-rounded, so she balanced her dad's showtunes with her other dad's classic movie collection. She knows all of the stereotypes, all of the archetypes, and just about every standard plot formula to ever grace performance art.

What it boils down to is that she should have known better than to attend her ten year reunion. _Really_ should have known better. There are dozens of trite plots which revolve around school reunions, and unless you're in a romantic comedy (and there are certain tell-tale indicators which are notably absent from her own life), things never end well for the former underdog who's already had her day in the sun. Especially when said plucky heroine isn't bringing her love-interest-who's-not-a-love-interest from her current all-consuming job. Rachel may have ended up in the sciences, to damn near everyone's surprise, but Dana Scully she is not (and the thought of dating any of her current coworkers, or neighbors, is enough to make her reconsider the nonexistence of her gag reflex).

No, instead of demonstrating any kind of rational judgment, Rachel had allowed her dads to talk her into coming home for the reunion. She told herself that no one goes to their ten year reunion, so there was no reason to worry about unfortunate encounters. It was a lovely fiction. Almost worthy of a place on the silver screen, in point of fact. In reality, awkward didn't even begin to cover it.

She could hear the reason this had been a monumentally stupid idea clear his throat, and shook her head roughly. "Don't. Just, please, don't."

No, awkward didn't begin to cover it in the slightest. Awkward was showing up to her ten year reunion in the first place looking (or at least feeling) ages older than her former classmates. Awkward was having to smile politely and explain that no, she wasn't in theater anymore, but thanks ever-so-much for asking. People tended to lose interest in her life at that point in conversations, preferring to talk about their own (especially if she encouraged them). There was just no cheerful and upbeat way to say things like car accident and permanent knee damage, so she didn't bother to try anymore. She didn't want their pity, even if they meant well. Rachel Berry did not need anyone's pity.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she flinched unconsciously. He didn't pull away, though, and neither did she. She couldn't bring herself to, even though she knew it would be better if she did. Instead, she allowed herself to be pulled back against a strong chest, letting the warmth bleed through her thin dress until it soothed the chill of recent sweat that had settled after their brief loss of control. Something else which she shouldn't have allowed. Which should not have happened _period_.

Because she and Finn Hudson were not an item, had not _been_ an item since before they had graduated high school. Different colleges, different priorities, the fact that _no one_ meets the love of their life (in real life) in high school - whichever explanation she gave - and she'd relayed each of them at different times - it was true. They'd been great, and then they'd been over. Finished. That chapter of her life was closed before she ever left Lima. They'd stayed friends, sort of, even if they only talked on Facebook. And it had stayed that way for a few years, right up until she'd stopped talking to everyone because it just _hurt_. Because talking to friends from high school meant thinking about high school, and that just brought too many things to mind she didn't want to remember anymore. Once in a while, she'd get drunk and skim around Facebook. That lasted another two years, until she clicked on Finn's profile and saw that his relationship status had changed to "Married". At that point, she had stopped looking altogether. The only reason she knew he was divorced was because her father had mentioned it on the way home from the airport.

Upon reflection, it was possible that total avoidance had not been the wisest option. Especially when one considers that it had taken all of twenty minutes for her to wind up in the storage closet, skirt hiked up around her waist and her back braced against the one bare wall as she nearly bit through her lip in an attempt to stay quiet. In forgetting everything else, she'd forgotten this, forgotten how _good_ it had been. She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a shaky breath as she tried to convince herself that she was just being melodramatic, a luxury that she'd long since given up. That being back at McKinley was bringing out the teenager in her.

"What happened to us, Rach?"

The voice was soft, deeper than her memory said it should be as the words brushed gently against her skin.

She shivered, sense memory flaring alongside the anxiety that came from never quite knowing the answer to that question, no matter how many times she'd tried to explain it to others. She opened her eyes, focusing on the seam where two cinderblocks met so that she stopped thinking about how good his touch felt. "We grew apart."

"Did we?" His grip tightened, words echoing the tension in his arms. "Or were we just scared that good things never last?"

She swallowed, blinking rapidly in an effort to keep the dust that was catching in her eye from causing her to tear up. Damn dust. "We both knew it was going to end. I didn't want to end up hating you, and it would have killed me if you ended up hating _me_. We talked about this when we broke up."

She felt more than heard his sigh. "Maybe I don't agree with that anymore. Maybe I haven't since you stopped talking to me." He released her, suddenly, spinning her around to face him. "Do you have _any idea_ how much that hurt?"

She nodded, eyes wide because she had very carefully planned to avoid just this kind of discussion. It was part of the same plan which had involved not talking to anyone from Glee Club and most certainly not Finn. It had been blown out of the water roughly thirty seconds after she had arrived at the reunion, but it was always important to have plans.

"What happened, Rachel? What _really_ happened, not that crap you were telling Quinn out there. Because if the whole reason we broke up was so that we'd stay friends, we did a crap job of it."

"It's..." She bit her lip, studying his face for a long moment in the dim glow of the storage closet's lowest-bidder lighting. Perversely, it was the carefully contained anger in his eyes which caused her breath to catch in something far too close to hope for her peace of mind. Love and Hate being two sides of the same coin might be a meaningless platitude, but it belonged to the possessing a deeper truth end of the spectrum (as opposed to the "Natural like Cheez Whiz" end of the spectrum). Clearing her throat, she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "It's a long story. And much as I'd like to share it, I need to sit down somewhere that's not concrete."

His expression softened, and he reached up to tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "But you will tell me?"

She nodded. "On one condition."

"Condition?"

"You're buying the drinks." She smoothed out her dress again, fussing with the fabric for a moment before giving it up as a lost cause. "And I'm not going home tonight, because I will in no way be fit to talk to my dads in the morning if I'm as hungover as I think I'm going to be."

"And if I refuse?"

She rolled her eyes, and resisted the urge to kick him in the shin at the relieved way he greeted the gesture. "You're talented, Finn, but acting has never been your strong suit."

He didn't sulk, not quite, but it was a near thing, and Rachel couldn't resist the urge to kiss it away. Things had changed in ten years, there was no doubt. They were both older, and she'd been right about one thing - they had grown in different directions. But at the same time, there were a remarkable number of things which were still the same. As he broke the kiss, laughing softly to dispel the lingering seriousness of their earlier conversation, she found herself smiling in a way she hadn't realized she'd forgotten. It felt good, like the parts of high school that she'd locked away along with the dreams which had been replaced by reality over the years.

The hallway was bright after the dimness of the closet, and she knew she must look a mess despite her best efforts, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, Rachel could honestly say that she didn't care.

~ Finis ~


End file.
